Not Always Golden
by Alatariel Palantir
Summary: Follow Peter through the trials, tribulations, and triumphs he experiences as being the new Narnian High King. Narnia wasn't always in her Golden Age under his ruling.
1. Chapter 1: Post Coronation

NOT ALWAYS GOLDEN

**NOT ALWAYS GOLDEN**

**Chapter One: Post-Coronation**

Fingering my new, jewel studded, intricately carved crown with admiring and gentle fingers, I was the last to step down from my throne.

_And to the clear northern sky, I give you King Peter, the Magnificent._

The phrase, the title, ceaselessly ran through my head. I could not grasp it wholly; its meaning could not take on its full impact.

"High King," a deep, smooth voice penetrated the barriers of my mind. A bit shocked, I looked down, searching for the bearer of the voice.

A fox, the very same who had rescued my sisters and I from the wolves, bowed his head solemnly.

Unsure of what exactly to do, I stammered, "Thank you, Fox." When his face contorted in confusion, I quickly added, "For rescuing my sisters and I. I apologize for any injuries you might have sustained in our stead."

The Fox made a gesture I took for a shrug. "It was nothing, your Majesty. I'd die five times over in the sake of my King."

An awkward pause enveloped us, for I did not know how to respond, but Something caught my eye as I looked over the Fox.

"Excuse me," I said hurriedly. I brushed past the Fox and through the crowd, warding off the "Your Majesty's" and "Long live, High King Peter's" that stuck to me as I scurried through the celebrating Narnians.

Finally breaking from the mass, I jogged out the castle doors, calling, "Aslan! Aslan!"

The great golden Lion turned. He was the one who should have been dubbed "magnificent." For nothing surpassed the golden mane and the quiet, stern face Aslan bore.

"Yes, my child," Aslan said softly as I approached. If it had been any other being saying this to me (human or nonhuman) I would have been angered, my pride stabbed by such casual and demeaning of a greeting. But, when Aslan spoke, I could only feel the utmost joy. His voice was smooth and rich as honey, spreading comfort and relaxation through my veins.

"Aslan," I started, remembering my task at hand. "I cannot do this. I cannot be King, nevertheless High King! I nearly got my brother killed. How can I protect and lead the whole of Narnia if I can't even protect my family?"

The pause that followed by confession was, at the least to say, uncomfortable. I waited, breathless, until the great Lion finally responded.

"Son of Adam, I would not have appointed you as High King of my dominion if I did not think you right. Do you doubt my judgment?"

I shook my head.

"I thought not. It is the mere fact that you say you are not able that makes you all the contrary. Yes, of course, you are young. You have much to learn. But, I have faith in you. You will serve Narnia well.

"But," Aslan continued. "I know your shortcomings. I know you inexperience. So this you must learn. A king should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry. For a king's anger does not bring about the righteous life Narnia needs to sustain herself. You should rule fairly, only using brute force at your greatest need. However, do not pull all your focus on being fair, for I do recall dubbing your brother as 'the Just.'" He smiled and I too.

"Peter," Aslan said, and I turned to face him. "You and your siblings will not be accepted whole-heartedly by the whole of Narnia. Many were swayed by the Witch's heavily winged words, and it will take much for them to trust you. Not all were mistreated by Jadis and not all will want this immense change."

The Lion paused, sighing. "But that is all I can tell you right now. I will always be there, my child, maybe not in figure and stature, but I will be there."

Suddenly, Aslan breathed in my face. Hair rustling, the most incredible sensation came over me. I could not even begin to describe it. When Aslan was done, he looked, again, deep into my eyes.

"Are you ready now, my child?"

"Yes, Aslan. I am ready," I responded. Truthfully, I did feel ready. All doubt and uncertainty diminished, leaving a sureness and certainty behind.

"Peter, you can do this," Aslan soothed. "Remember, I'm not the only one who wants their family safe."

With that, the great Lion turned, magnificent golden tail softly swaying as Aslan walked down the beach.

I breathed deeply and turned to Cair Paravel and remembered that conversation that seemed to occur years, not days, ago.

_That is Cair Paravel, the castle of the four thrones. In one of which you will sit, Peter, as High King. You doubt the prophecy?_

_No, it's just it. Aslan, I'm not all you think I am._

_Peter Pevensie, from Finchley. Beaver also mentioned that you planned on turning him into a hat._

Then we shared a laugh, then a pause.

_Peter, there is a Deep Magic more powerful than any of us that rules over all of Narnia. It defines right from wrong and governs all our destinies. Yours and mine._

_But I couldn't even protect my own family!_

_You brought them safely this far._

_Not all of them._

_Peter, I will do what I can to help your brother. But I need you to consider what I ask of you. I, too, want my family safe._

By this time, I had already made it back up to the castle. It would've taken longer to find the banquet hall had it not been for the joyously loud chatter and the clinging and clanging of dishes, silverware, chairs, and dancing. For this was not only a coronation celebration, but also one rejoicing over Narnia's freedom from the White Witch's bondage.

When I had arrived, the feast was just getting started. Platters and basketfuls of food were being set on the largest table I had ever seen. Lucy was in the far corner with her beloved Mr. Tumnus, babbling away. Susan, who was dancing with a centaur and not minding in the slightest that his hoofs kept on tripping her up, had a smile on her face. It wasn't a plastered, anxiety-ridden smile, but a real one that suggested pure and utter happiness. Edmund was relaying his battle experience to a group of young fauns, beavers, and foxes, enjoying himself. I had been afraid that his loyalty to Narnia would be questioned, but his work on the battlefield distinguished most hard feelings that had been held towards him.

"Please take your seats!" The alluring voice of a young Naiad spoke clearly over the din. Immediately, the various guests took their rightful seats around the great table. Watching this humorous havoc that was as entertaining as musical chairs, I was barely aware that I was being addressed.

"–take your place, High King?" A centaur asked me tentatively.

"Yes, thank you." I had not noticed I was one of the few still standing. I casually walked to the table and suddenly stopped, a bit uncomfortable. There were about ten or so chairs that were still unoccupied, and I had a ten percent chance of picking the right one, for I had no idea where to sit. The seated persons – and creatures – looked up at me.

Before I could make a mistake, the same centaur slowly pulled out a chair at the head of the table. Embarrassed, I tried to regain my dignity with a determined walk, and slipped into the chair that had been pulled out for me.

"Your Majesty," the centaur said.

"Thank you, kind and noble centaur," I replied, feeling, once again, unable.

At the point of my sitting down, the table erupted in all sorts of babble, and it seemed my ignorance was dismissed. Susan gave me a humorous and knowing glance, and, smiling back at her, I raised my glass before taking a nice, long sip.

A/N: So, how did you like? This will be a multi-chapter fic, if you want it to continue. I promise for more of dialogue between the Pevensies and such, but I just wanted to lay the groundwork.


	2. Chapter 2: Comes with Being High King

The feast seemingly ended as quickly as it had begun

**DISCLAIMER:** I seem to have forgotten to post this on the last chapter, but, thankfully, no lawyers came after me waving lawsuits. So, here it goes: Anything and everything relating, subjecting, or relating the works of C.S. Lewis does not belong to me. Happy?

A/N: I promise a lot of brotherly fluff and awkwardness! ;) Be afraid, be very afraid. Oh, and don't get used to these _incredibly_ long chapters. They may not be for you, but for me, they are unending to write.

**NOT ALWAYS GOLDEN**

**Chapter Two: Comes with Being High King**

The feast seemingly ended as quickly as it had begun. A Dwarf had just finished telling me the tortures he had endured because he had refused to be apart of the Witch's service. I looked up, my mind still lingering on how horrid the Witch was, and, with a shudder, thinking of how Edmund nearly had the same fate, when I saw most excusing themselves and leaving.

Feeling that it was a kingly thing to do, I hurried over to the Great Hall's main door, where I began shaking hands and thanking the smiling and joyous guests as they departed.

The faun, Tumnus, appeared in front of me.

"Mr. Tumnus," I nodded respectively. "How obliged I am to you. I never properly thanked you for keeping watch over my sister on her first adventure into Narnia."

Mr. Tumnus smiled, no doubt replaying the unforgettable experience. "No thanks is needed, your Majesty. Indeed," his eyes clouded, the merriment danced away. "I nearly…" His voice trailed off, unable to continue.

I awkwardly patted his shoulder. "Let us not think of what _could_ have happened, Mr. Tumnus, but rather, what did," I reassured him.

I shook his hand and he was off, leaving me to a Faun who had drunk a bit too much.

Before I knew it, my siblings and I were the only dwellers in the room, sparing a few silent Naiads who busied themselves with the feast dishes. The Great Hall looked much bigger now.

"Oh, Peter!" Lucy gushed, running over to me. I picked her up, fixing her cockeyed crown.

"That's _King_ Peter to you," I responded playfully. Lucy laughed; grin literally reached from ear to ear.

"Can you believe it's really happening?" Lucy whispered, as if afraid that talking too loud would send us back to Professor Kirke's spare room. "You, a King and I, a Queen! Can you imagine the feasts we will attend, the parties we will throw, the garments we will wear?"

"I don't see how you're so surprised," I remarked.

"And how is that?"

"Father did always say you were a quite the princess," I responded with a grin. Lucy playfully swatted me on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, your Majesties," a Talking Cat softly spoke up, long tongue softly rolling the "r's". Both Lucy and I looked down, for it was a bit surprising to be talked to by a Cat _and_ referred to as "Majesties."

This Cat, I could tell even if it did not open its mouth, was a Talking Cat. I had begun to notice that all Talking Animals were taller than the ordinary animal, and the way their faces were arranged gave them a more intelligent appearance. This Cat was gray, black stripes encircling its body. The markings on its hairy face suggested something similar to glasses.

"My apologies for interrupting, but I presume your Majesties and your Majesties' royal siblings would like to rest? For it, if I am not too bold to say, has been quite the excitable day, and I do not doubt that your Majesties and your Majesties' royal siblings would be tired."

I had not noticed it before, but I was a bit drained. Even during the Cat's speech, I noticed Lucy give a polite little yawn.

"That," I responded. "Sounds like a lovely idea. Lead the way, if you please." I motioned to Susan and Edmund, both who had been chatting to the Naiads during our exchange.

The Cat (of whom I still did not know the name of) escorted us through a dizzyingly zigzag of halls, all which had many doors. I feared of getting lost in this complex castle.

Suddenly, the cat stopped. I, who had been first following, nearly tramped on her midnight-striped tail.

"My Queens," the Cat stated, bowing in a graceful way I suspect only Cats can do. "Your royal chambers."

Two pairs of a set of tall oak doors stood across the hall from one another. On one of these doors, "Queen Susan, the Gentle," and the other, "Queen Lucy, the Valiant," was carved in exquisite script.

Edmund and I bid our dear sisters good night, and off they went into our separate rooms.

"My Kings?" The Cat asked tentatively. We followed her through seemingly endless corridors and passages. However, it was only about a minute later when we came to our own rooms. My heart swelled with pride upon reading, "High King Peter," that was engraved on my door in the same elegant writing.

Turning around, I thanked the Cat for her guidance.

"'Twas no problem, my King."

"Still, thank you, er, Cat," I stammered.

"Please, your Majesty, call me Avas," Avas informed me.

"Well, thank you again, Avas. Have a good night."

"You too, my King." And with that, Avas walked off.

"G'night, Ed," I said to Edmund's retreating form. I got no response.

Adrenaline pumping in anticipation, I opened the wooden doors. The room was everything greater than I could have ever imagined it to be.

The doors opened to a great study. The walls were a deep emerald green, and a great mahogany desk took up nearly the whole of one of the walls. Bookcases simply crammed with books, scrolls, and maps ran from floor to ceiling on the side opposing the desk. Moonlight poured in from four wall-height tall windows on the fourth side of the room that was opposite from the doors. And, in the middle of the latter half of the room, was a set of spiraling stairs.

Quite anxious now, I traveled over to the staircase and slowly climbed up it, hand trailing along the dustless and smooth banister. At the top of the stairs I stood, unable to move, awed.

The largest bedroom of I'd ever seen undid itself before my very eyes. The bed itself looked as if it could fit a person four times my size, by length and girth. The many comforters were varying shades of a light greenish blue, complementing the walls that we painted a frothy sea-foam blue. A nightstand of the same mahogany as the desk stood next to the bed. I turned and I suddenly had a bit of trouble breathing.

Contrary to the separate, singular windows in the study, this room, my room, had once continuous window that wrapped along the entire wall. A window seat ran parallel to the window. The view was astounding; it could not be beat. Though it was dark and I could not see well, I know it looked out to the sea.

A new type of smile on my face, I toured the rest of my new room. Archways covered with silk curtains on both sides of my room led to a washroom and a walk-in wardrobe. It was not meager, in any circumstances, and it was nearly too much space to comprehend. In England, I had always shared with Edmund in a quaint little room, and having this much freedom was a nice change of space.

A fresh set of nightclothes were set in the wardrobe. I changed slowly, fingering the clever stitching of my coronation suit before putting it away. Next, I placed Rhindon and my shield on an overstuffed chair.

I then collapsed on the bed. It enveloped me. I closed my eyes, allowing the sleep that hung so near to me to come, to bid me rest. But, alas, it would not. Seemingly hours later, I was still lying in the comfortable bed, too tired, as ridiculous as it sounds, to sleep. This insomnia was not rare to me; ever since the bombings started and Father left sleep was hard for me to come by.

Usually, I would use this time to pay a visit to our library and read until my eyes closed on themselves, but, of course, I had no idea if there was one or where Cair Paravel's library would be.

To make the best out of this unpleasant circumstance, I decided to roam the castle. I was, as I had nearly already forgotten, High King, and I supposed that I should know not only my dominion but my home as well.

I did not get that far, though. I had no sooner closed the doors (as quietly as I could) when I heard a crashing noise from Edmund's room.

A bit concerned, I slowly opened the door to Edmund's royal bedchambers.

"Ed? Everything alright up there?" I half-whispered, half-yelled.

Getting no response, I pushed the doors to his chambers open. I could not see much, due to the darkness, but I figured the layout of his room was similar to mine.

Quickly jogging up the stairs, fearing the worse, I called, again,

"Ed? Everything alright up there?"

As I walked into the room, a surprised Edmund, who I could only see a dark outline of, came from the archway that I suspected led to the washroom.

"Ed?" I repeated for the third time. "Are you okay?"

"It's so bloody dark in here," a gruff voice answered. "Stubbed my ruddy toe just trying to get to the bathroom."

"Oh," I simply said. I was about to turn and depart, wishing him a good night as I walked down the stairs, but suddenly it hit me. There was something strange in Edmund's voice. And, as I glanced at him again, my eyes now better adjusted to the darkness, a most peculiar expression was on his face.

I walked over to him and put both my hands on his shoulders, and bent down to look more properly at him. Surprisingly, and thankfully, he did shrug me off. His eyes were glistening and seemed a bit wet.

"Edmund?" My worried voice keyed up a notch. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head, defiantly trying to regain composure. Crying was very unlike Edmund, and that's why I knew something was horribly wrong.

Edmund inhaled a deep, shaky breath. "Peter, I don't deserve to be King."

_Oh,_ I thought, gaining understanding. _That's what's wrong._

"Of course you do, Edmund," I consoled. "You have all right to be King. _You_ were the one who broke the White Witch's wand. Without you, we would have been badly beaten."

But, Edmund shook his head all the more. "But, Pete, the battle would have never happened if it weren't for me. Oh, Peter, but don't you know how horrid I was? I traded my family, all those Narnians, Aslan's life, for _candy_. I know what Aslan did for me, Peter. I deserved, no, I _deserve_ to die-"

"NO!" I cut him off sharply. He flinched in surprise. I quieted my voice. "Edmund, don't you ever, _ever_ say that. What you did, well, to be truthful, it was a bit nasty, but Aslan has forgiven you. By the lion's mane, he made you a knight! We have all forgiven and forgot, and you should do the same."

"Oh, Peter, oh, how I – how I wi-wish-" Edmund hung his head, tears of self-shame running down his face. I grasped him, his head dug into my shoulder.

For an immeasurable amount of time, Edmund silently sobbed into my shoulder. Though how uncharacteristic this was, he needed this. I understood that this was how Edmund would let go. Without this, Edmund would not be able to move on. But, even though I knew this, I held onto him, too, because before he would have never cried, especially in front of me. If we were back in England, Edmund would have turned bitter. Narnia had changed him, bettered him.

"The Lion's blood has forgiven you," I whispered into his ear. "Let that be a lesson to you: forgive as Aslan has forgiven you."

When his trembling subsided and his tears ceased, Edmund looked up at me, a small smile tugging on his lips.

"Glad you're back, Ed." My smile matched his. Seeing he was better, I turned and began to walk away.

"Pete?" He called tentatively. I stopped and faced him.

"Um, er, thank you," Edmund finished awkwardly.

I laughed and was about to finally leave when I had a sudden urge to voice something that was left unsaid.

"Edmund, I'm proud of you."

I plodded back down the stairs and into my bed; the night's exciting events allowed me some sleep.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Your highness?" A soft, hesitant voice pulled me out of the deep pit of lull.

"Mhmm?" I muttered sleepily, still unused to the noble title. Half-awake, I rubbed my eyes until I could focus.

Avas, the Cat whom I met the night before, was daintily perched on the edge of my nightstand. Her tail's swaying was so incredibly similar to that of Aslan's the day prior.

"High King Peter," she said, a bit more sternly and a bit more forcefully. This time I sat up, alert.

"Oreius requests audience with you at once. Shall I tell him you will meet him in the Throne Room, at five minutes till?"

"Yes, sounds lovely." However, two thoughts crossed my mind simultaneously. "Avas, may I bother you in asking the time?"

"Twenty minutes before eight o'clock."

"And where is the Throne Room exactly?"

"Directly across from the Great Hall, your Majesty. A bust of a lion stands at its entrance."

I quickly threw on a robe that was lying on the armchair beside the bed and stood. Avas bowed respectively.

"Thank you, Avas," I said with a hurried nod.

"Your very welcome, your Majesty." Avas trotted out the room and I proceeded to get dressed.

When I walked into the wardrobe, mountains upon mountains of clothes loomed over me. I was completely unsure of the attire for an "audience."

My eyes frantically sweeping the innumerous garments, a great breath of relief escaped me. A suitable outfit was already set out where the nightclothes were the night before.

I stripped off my clothes and pulled on my new ones, muttering a thankful blessing to good ol' Avas. I then hurriedly washed myself, admiring my new attire.

With ten minutes to spare, I took off to find the Throne Room. I figured a bit of roaming around would lead me to the Great Hall, and from there, the Throne Room should be easy to spot.

I absentmindedly fixed my hair as I sped through the halls, unceasingly racking my brain for any memory of the route Avas took the night before.

Finally, with a little help from a nervous Naiad, I found the Great Hall. It took me all of thirty seconds to find the Throne Room from there. As I walked passed the lion bust, I felt my stomach softly growl. I hoped this meeting wouldn't last too long, for I was ready for some royal breakfast.

Seeing my friend made me forget about my stomach. I hadn't properly talked to the Centaur after he'd been turned into stone.

"Oerius!" I exclaimed, giving him a quick hug. I inconspicuously glanced at the clock that stood near the wall, praising the Lion I was a minute early.

"My Majesty," Oerius returned. "I am glad to see you bright, especially so early in the morn. But, before we start gabbing away like old lady squirrels, I wish to tell you of the business I sought you out for."

"Business?" I questioned. "What kind of business?"

"Your Majesty," Oerius continued. "I doubt that you know this, but, as High King, it would be most admirable and most satisfactory of you to give a speech."

"A speech?" If I sounded wary, I was.

"Yes, your Highness, you must give a speech. There's no need for any great declaration or a proclamation, but a simple speech would help the Narnians rest a bit easier."

"Rest easier? How so?"

"You see, my King, I have gotten wind of speculation that many share the same thought that Narnia is too vulnerable of upholding a monarchy of such meager years."

"You cannot mean to say that because they question my siblings' and mine leadership ability just because we are _young_?" Truth be told, I was outraged.

"Well, yes, my King, I'm afraid that is exactly the fear."

"Had they not seen us on the Battle of Beruna? Had they not seen Lucy heal many with her diamond-encased cordial? Had they not seen Susan slay the enemy's forces with her bow? Had they not seen Edmund, whose life hung by a single thread when he obliterated the Witch's magical wand? Have they no trust in Aslan's judgment?"

When I was done with my tantrum, Oerius spoke calmly, evenly. "My good and uplifting King, not all have seen you and your siblings' ability on the battlefield. Nearly all who have fought have perished or chosen to forget. And, quite sadly, only some of seen Aslan and those who haven't have lost faith in the Lion. That is why, your Majesty, it is vital for you to speak to these doubtful Narnians."

Oerius' words were true. Nodding my head in agreement, I thanked the Centaur for his counsel. "When must I make this speech?"

"At the noon, preferably."

I glanced at the clock. I had three and a half hours to prepare something that would convict and persuade the whole of unbelieving and untrusting Narnians. Not that there was any pressure, of course.

"And what I am to wear to this? I did not see jacket nor tie in my wardrobe."

Though I doubted Oerius comprehended the reference, he smiled anyway. "I will ask Avas to find you something suitable."

While Oerius was readying himself to leave, I spoke. "Oerius, I do thank you. For now; for at the Battle of Beruna."

The wise Centaur nodded in understanding. "I do what is necessary to better serve my King." And, with a clattering of hooves, Oerius was off.

I eased myself down in one of the hardback chairs and took in a deep breath. I looked outside the door Oerius had left open. The lion bust, though it was made of merely stone, gave me hope, gave me reassurance.

"I can do this," I muttered to myself. Then, trying my best to feel confident and failing miserably, I walked across the room and into the Great Hall. Breakfast was just getting served.

Lucy, who was all smiles and laughter, looked up at me brightly when I entered. "Good morning, Peter! Oh, isn't it just delightful?" I only managed a half-grin.

Susan, who could always tell when I was in an unhappy mood, cocked her head, trying to read the expression on my face. "What's the matter, Pete?"

I collapsed in the chair next to Susan's. Grumpily, I muttered, "I have to make a speech today."

Susan tried to her best to look disgruntled for my sake. "Oh, that is the worst luck."

"Comes with being High King, I expect," Edmund piped up.

"A speech!" I exclaimed, throwing up my arms. "I'm no public speaker! Back in England, no one ever picks me as partner on oral reports. I'm rubbish!"

"Maybe that's it!" Lucy said brightly. "You may have been rubbish back in England, but you're in Narnia! I bet you couldn't use a sword as well back at home as you can here."

"You know what? Maybe you're right, Lu." I paused, pondering it. "At least, I hope you're right."

There was a ripple of laughter and I dejectedly grabbed an apple from a nearby bowl, probably the least glamorous choice at the entire table.

"Don't you want something else, Peter?" asked Susan, who was happily pouring thick, sweet maple syrup on a stack of golden, fluffy pancakes.

"Not hungry," I mumbled. The apple was, of course, delicious in itself, but even Narnian food wouldn't stop the nervous squirming of my stomach.


	3. Chapter 3: Security Blanket

A half an hour later, I was in my study, head in hands

A/N: It's been a few days, but here it is! I'm kind of iffy on this chapter, but tell me how you like it!

**DISCLAIMER: **Anything that sounds even a bit familiar does not belong to me. I'm not creative enough to come up with my own stories, so I just add to others'.

**NOT ALWAYS GOLDEN**

**Chapter Three: Security Blanket**

A half an hour later, I was in my study, head in hands. Thirty minutes later, and all I had accomplished in my speech was a single word, "Narnians." It wasn't much, but I had no prior experience of composing speeches. When Oreius had told me of this task, it seemed simple enough, but now his instructions appeared to be vague and unmanageable.

I decided I needed some inspiration. Quill, ink bottle, and parchment in hand, I sent out to roam the castle until I founded what I needed. I knew I would get lost, but, for some reason, I did not care too much.

The interior rooms, despite their vastness, felt cramped and stuffy to me, so I went outside. A beautiful, nay, _magnificent_ garden was set just beyond the back terrace. A meager word floated through my mind: _perfect._

I immediately took a seat on one of the two wicker chairs and looked round. The garden was small, no greater than twenty feet square, and it wasn't exactly a food-bearing garden. Tall, weeping crimson-red blossomed trees enveloped this patio, making it seem secluded and like a sanctuary. Dark, earthly colored stones made the floor. Only three pieces of furniture made up this garden: two wicker-backed chairs (one of which I was sitting in) and a corresponding wicker table. A sweet scent drifted in the air. Examining the trees more closely, I noticed that they weren't just regular trees, but fruit-bearing ones. Berries, identical in color to that of its leaves, were grouped in bunches throughout.

Knowing this unwise yet still doing so, I plucked one berry from its branches. Biting into it, I figured I had not tasted something as nearly as delicious before in my entire life. The fruit was sweet but managed to be tart at the same time. It was whole and filling. I suspected it too great of a treat that I didn't think I could handle another one. Supposing the berry wasn't poisonous, I continued my inspection of the garden.

From the way the floor was littered with tree debris, I figured that this garden hadn't been used in a while. I quickly cleared these away, and it was suddenly quite cozy.

Satisfied with my new (and, hopefully, secret) haven, I set down to do my wretched work. For the next countless hours I worked on my so-called speech. Finally, as I composing the final part, I heard a distant, panicked yelling.

As the person (or creature, for all I knew) got closer, I heard, "High King! High King Peter!"

Picking up my supplies, I quickly stepped out from underneath the Fireblossom branches (for that is what I named the trees).

The far-off, frenzied screaming became more audible. "High King Peter! Where are you? High King! High King!"

A gruffer, familiar voice overpowered that of the first voice. "Peter Pevensie! Get your ruddy self over here!"

I slightly jogged in the direction of the voices. On the back terrace, I saw an anxious Dryad and a red-faced Edmund.

"What's going on?" I inquired, a bit alarmed.

"Well," Edmund declared, turning towards me. "It's about bloody time! We were about to call the Royal Guard to warrant a search party."

"Hey," I responded. "Watch your mouth."

Edmund rolled his eyes but said nothing.

"I was just working on my speech," I defended myself, holding up my quill and parchment.

"And hiding doing it?" Edmund mumbled.

"No, I was in the place where I was best able to work. My apologies, dear Dryad, for your worries."

The Dryad smiled shyly, curtsied, and left.

"Anyway," Edmund said, his irritation rubbing off. "I've come to collect you. Avas has set what you are to wear in your wardrobe, then we are to 'present ourselves to the Narnian citizens.'" His voice, at the end, was mocking whoever said it to him, and I laughed, for Edmund was quite good.

"Alright, then." I grinned devilishly at him. "First one there wins."

I took off, Edmund following when the meaning of my words sunk in. I was tearing through the hallways and under the archways.

Suddenly, I skid to a stop, nearly plowing into Susan. Edmund, unaware of my abrupt stop, collided into the back of me. Laughing hysterically, I fell to the ground, Edmund rolling off of me to the floor. I looked up, and Susan stood there, glaring scornfully at the two of us.

"What?" I asked innocently.

"Oh, Peter," she said disdainfully. "One would think you two would grow up."

"Oh, cork it, Susan," Edmund spoke up. "We're just having fun."

"Well, fun will have to wait until later. You two need to clean yourselves up. We are due at the front veranda in promptly thirty minutes."

"Any chance of grabbing a quick bite beforehand?" Edmund asked hopefully, rubbing his stomach.

"Boys," Susan muttered, rolling her eyes. "Always thinking about food."

Edmund shrugged, I half-heartedly laughed. The mention of the upcoming event put my stomach in knots. I skimmed over my poorly written speech again.

"C'mon, Pete," Edmund called, already halfway down the hall. "We haven't got all day."

"You're telling me," I mumbled.

Edmund and I parted ways; I to my chambers and he to his own.

It didn't take me long to find my clothes for this "special" occasion. As I dressed, I rehearsed my speech, making myself so familiar with it that I would obliterate each and every stutter and mumble that might occur. For the first time since this morning, I was feeling quite confident in myself.

All too soon, Oerius appeared at my door.

"It is time, My King," he said, bowing. I nodded hastily, checked to see if I still held the parchments which I had written my speech on for the utmost time, and walked out into the hallway. I waited patiently as Oerius knocked on each of my sibling's doors.

We walked throughout the halls, Oerius leading, attracting many stares and bows as we passed, wearing our best. No one of talked, least I, who, I thought, had the most reason to be nervous. Lucy's hand slipped into my mine. I half-smiled at her and gave her hand what I hoped to be a comforting squeeze.

Oerius stopped at the front terrace, us following suit.

"Are you ready, my Kings and Queens?"

We all nodded nervously. I let go of Lucy's head, using it to grasp Rhindon, which hung at my side. I took a deep breath. Now was the time.

Oerius stepped out onto the marbled patio.

"Citizens of Narnia!" The crowd immediately hushed. "Your Royal Monarchy!"

Great applause erupted from the Narnians, and I stepped out into the dazzling sunlight. Susan, Edmund, and then Lucy followed, but the sight was too remarkable for me to notice. It seemed all of Narnia had come for this. I looked down at them from five stories up. Creatures I did not even recognize stood among the spectators. Though the cheering was supposed to be out of appreciation and respect, to me, it only resembled jeering.

_The taunts and heckling before a match of dogs,_ I thought. _That's what they are. They are thirsty, thirsty for the nervous sweat that no doubt has broken out on my brow. They want me, nay, expect me, to mess this up._

These foolhardy thoughts sucked out all ounces of confidence from within me. I heard, as if from a long distance, Oerius announcement:

"And now a word from High King Peter!"

I audibly gulped, frozen to the spot. If my feet were not bolted to the floor I would've fled. Susan's hand reached and gently grasped my shoulder. That was the support that released my feet from its bondages.

Taking a shaky breath, I stepped up onto the podium, placing the three sheets of parchment on top of it. Oerius gave me an impatient yet encouraging look.

"Narnians!" I shouted. In response, the cheering started up again. I put up a hand to quiet them.

"Your brothers, fathers, uncles, nephews, friends, or even you may remember me on the battlefield as Sir Peter the Wolfsbane, as knighted by Aslan. But, today, I come to you, not as a knight, not as a meager man, but as co-fulfiller of the prophecy and one who sitteth on one of the four thrones in the Throne Rome of Cair Paravel. I am, as dubbed by the tip of the Great Lion's tongue, High King Peter, the Magnificent." I paused for a moment, because, as the norm when I am nervous, my words were running together and were beginning to slur.

"I would like to present you my brother, King Edmund, the Just. I would like to present you my sisters, Queen Susan, the Gentle and Queen Lucy, the Valiant." As each of my siblings' names were called, they shyly stood from their seats.

"Though we seem of tender years," I continued on. "I ensure you that Narnia is in great hands. We may not have the experience of governing an entire country, but, the Great Lion, the invincible Aslan, has granted us maturity, understanding, and abilities that are usually unattainable by some of our ages.

"And –"

At the moment, to my complete and utter horror, a breeze picked up from the sea. I had been presently clutching the sides of the podium in a vice-like grip and could not prevent the wind as it took hold of my papers and lifted them up into the air.

I watched on in silent shock as the greedy current of air kept hostage of those papers – my lifeline, my only hope of making through this speech alive – and sent them into the dark and mysterious forest.

Now, a great speaker would've kept talking, ignoring the fact that his notes were no longer there. I, however, could only stand, dumbfounded. I was stunned, and too taken aback to even remember the rest I had planned to stay.

My mouth opened and closed freely, though no sound was uttered. Everything was in a tensed hush. I groped through my brain to find something – _anything_ – to say, but there was only fog. I turned to my siblings. My sisters' mouths were shaped in a slight "o" of pity, and Edmund was openly wincing at my discomfort.

"Thank you," I finished weakly, a feeble and awkward applause following.

I was burning in shame. I took my seat, my undeserved seat. Susan sympathetically rubbed my back.

Oerius, looking as pained as I felt, regained the stand. "Thank you, my fellow Narnians, for coming here today. Now, to the Royal Monarchy of the Great and Powerful Narnia!" He started a mildly enthusiastic applause.

Afterwards, I stood next to Edmund, Susan, and Lucy at the castle gates, shaking hands (rather, hooves, paws, and what not). Many gave me pitied looks, which I loathed. Susan and Lucy tried to be cheerful, while Edmund remained sullen, ashamed of me, no doubt.

I plastered on a false smile for a group of Foxes who came in line next. When they came up to me, I let out my hand. Both Foxes visibly recoiled as far as creaturely possible away from me, all the while muttering, "We're doomed."

I managed to mutter "thank you's" to the rest of the procession, though I was too miserable to sound cheery. As soon as the last Bear left, I dashed away from my family, wanting only to be alone.

My feet led me to my sacred spot, my hideaway. I nestled in between the trees, resting my head in my hands.

It wasn't that I made a fool of myself. That I could deal with. Aslan's advice, which had given me comfort before, felt distant now. Worthlessness filled me to the very brim. My own lieges did not have faith in me.

_Some great King I am,_ I thought bitterly. Though they threatened to do so, I did not let the tears break free. Holding in this bothersome emotion would allow me to cling to the only amount of integrity I had left.

I sat there, for who knows how long, staring at the ground. I jumped when I felt a warm hand on my back. Susan looked down at me, Lucy and Edmund behind her.

I sighed heavily, letting Susan start the talking that undoubtedly was to come.

"It's okay, Peter," she soothed. "It was your first time."

I shook my head stubbornly.

"Peter," Lucy said, kneeling beside me. "We're all allowed mistakes. The speech was actually pretty good until…"

"I'm worthless," I whispered, not at all caring how childish I sounded.

"Oh, do stop your sulking!" Edmund exclaimed. I looked up surprised, for he was one to talk. "You did a bloody better job than I or any of us could've done under the circumstances. Who cares if you messed up?"

"Language, Edmund," Susan warned, making Edmund roll his eyes.

"These two Foxes," I continued, needing to get this out of my system. "Wouldn't even look at me! They think me as unworthy, I know it."

"Oh, Peter," Lucy said, resting her head on my shoulder. "I don't think you're unworthy. And, neither did Aslan. You're going to get better at this, and you're going to like it. I know it."

I smiled, admiringly, down at her. "I suppose you're right, Lu."

"Of course she's right!" Ed cried, exasperated. "Now, let's get some lunch. I'm starving."

Lucy grabbed me by the hands and pulled me up. All four of made our way back to the castle, the other three's minds probably dwelling on lunch. Mine, however, was fixed on other matters.

I could never imagine life without my siblings. They were my security blanket. I had never had to fear of a hard fall whenever I reached out, because they were always underneath me, ready to catch me if I fell. Though Susan seems too scornful, Edmund, too irritable, and Lucy, too innocent, I know they mean well.

Even though I was still embarrassed by the day's events and could not help but feel a little inadequate, a small warmness glowed inside me.

_Oh, Aslan,_ I prayed.


	4. Chapter 4: Sleepless to Strenuous

Sleepless Nights Prequel Strenuous Days

A/N: It's been a long time, and I missed you all! Really, I did! I'm sorry it took _so_ incredibly long for an update, and I apologize that it's not even _that_ exciting of a chapter. But, I can promise a more, er, adventurous time in the next few chapters! Please enjoy!

**DISCLAIMER: **Narnia never has been, is, or ever will belong to me. I'm not that smart, am I? :D

**NOT ALWAYS GOLDEN**

**Chapter Four: Sleepless Nights Prequel Strenuous Days**

I listened to the night sounds (or, rather, the soundlessness) of the castle.

An owl hooted in the distance; a wolf cried to the moon. I could vaguely hear the waves as they softly crashed on the shore. Besides that, the night was still, silent.

I audibly sighed. One would think, one would hope, that at the close of an eventful day sleep would come welcomingly easy. In England, rest was hard to come by, too, even after a day of football and rugby. I would think that in Narnia, where the magical and mysterious never cease, this insomnia would quit its pestilence on me. One _would _think. Nonetheless, I was sleeping lest fitfully in Narnia than in England, only having one other episode, on the night of my coronation (as I have already mentioned).

Making an end to my hours of staring at the ceiling, I threw back my bedcovers and pulled on my robe.

I silently slipped into the hall. I placed an ear to Edmund's doors, but, alas, there were no brothers in need of consoling tonight.

Despite my annoyance to this disease (if there is an allowance for this excess of melodramatics), I somewhat enjoyed my midnight wanderings. Now that I can make my way through the towers without the assistance of a map, I can fully enjoy my new home. How peaceful, how serene, the castle is at night, much to the contrary of the hustle and bustle of the day. This is when I can think without interruption.

After plodding through the halls, without bothering the sleep the resting were gifted with, I found myself having an insufferable urge for fresh air. The castle is not stuffy, much airier than that, but sometimes a pair of lungs needs the incomparable breath of the earth.

I went out onto a balcony, my hair rustling in the comfortable breeze. The ocean danced underneath the moon (which, like the sun, was much bigger here, in Narnia, than in England). So, for hours upon hours, I leant against the marble banister, combing through my thoughts. It wasn't until I noticed the first signs of dawn that I stopped my musings.

From the morning light (or rather, lack of) I determined it was roughly four o'clock. Though, still not feeling in the least tired, I peeled myself away from the rapidly rising sun and returned to my chambers.

I placed a note on my door, requesting to not be disturbed and to dismiss the faun who acts as my wake-up call from the foresaid duty today. Despite me not feeling weary, my eyes shut upon my head hitting the pillow, and I slipped into easy slumber.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Your Majesty."

I struggled against a wall of weariness as the clear voice startled me out of my sleep. I was too tired to care that the intruder came whit I was still in my nightclothes.

"Oh, Oreius, has my sign eluded your sight?" I asked, voice thick with sleep, without even opening my eyes.

"My King," Oreius chuckled. "I did see your request of no disturbance, yet I had to ignore it."

"Formally loyal subject, why have you turned on me now?" I, of course, spoke this teasingly, for Oreius would be the last to rebel against me.

"King Peter, I hope you had a restful night last night."

I groaned at the irony of that statement, and unwillingly unglued my eyes. Oreius looked amused.

"What may I offer this untimely visit to, that you bring you joyful biddings?"

"Today, my King, you begin your training."

"Training?" The word had an effect on me similar to poison.

"Yes, High King Peter, _kingly _training."

I gave him a look that I hoped conveyed my exasperation.

"We all know your talent, your Majesty. This training is to only refine raw skills, my King."

"Is it mandatory?"

Oreius chuckled again. "Yes, my King, completely obligatory. Your Majesty and your Majesty's Royal Siblings need this to show Narnia her strongest monarchy."

I couldn't help but agree with him. It was horrifically bothersome but completely necessary.

"Your Majesty's training attire has been set out." As an afterthought Oreius added, "Your Majesty's Royal Brother, King Edmund, will be there also."

That did brighten things up a bit. "Oreius?"

"Yes, my King."

"Where is this training held?"

"Pardon my carelessness, my King. Your Majesty's training will begin, but not be confined to, the sword pit."

I thanked Oreius and dismissed him so I could change, retaining privacy and an amount, though meager, of pride.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I squinted in the mid-morning sun. The said sun glared off my military helmet; the metal was hot in my hands. Though I was nervous, anxious, and a bit wary of this so-called "training." I wore a determined grimace; my stride was confident and strong.

"Your Majesty," Oreius and another unfamiliar centaur chorused, bowing. I nodded solemnly in response.

"King Edmund?" I asked, leaving the rest of my question hang in the air.

"Has not yet arrived," Oreius finished.

I nodded again. It was unlike Edmund to be on time.

We three stood in a mildly awkward silence for the next thirty seconds, until Edmund ran out to the filed, breathing heavy and sweating.

"High King Peter, King Edmund," Oreius said, gesturing to the other centaur. "I present you with Aeon, my assistant."

"Your Majesties, it is a supreme pleasure, an utmost pleasure." With a rattle of armor, he bowed so low his horns scraped the ground. "I have heard of your Majesties' courage and valor across both land and sea."

"Thank you, good Centaur," I returned. "Your flattery is undeserved but greatly appreciated. However, if I may remind you," a hint of a smile flickered across my face, "it is Queen Lucy who was crowned 'Valiant.'"

We all shared a quiet laugh.

"My kings," Oreius clearly wanted to get down to business. "Shall we begin with sparring/" The question was, of course, not a question.

In response, I trade Rhindon, who was always at my side, for a wooden, dulled sword. Edmund did likewise.

The replacement wooden stick (for that was all it was, really) felt unbalanced, strange. It was too light. With Rhindon, I like an overprotective, bragging parent. No sword could ever match up to _my_ Rhindon.

"Ready, Ed?" I asked, giving him a challenging smile.

He shrugged. Edmund was never the morning person.

"We'll see your strengths and then begin to work on your weaknesses, your Majesties."

Edmund and I both nodded and readied our stances.

Oreius gave the signal and we began. Eventually I won the drama-lacking battle, which was inevitable, not because of skill, but due to both height and weight advantage and these despicable swords. Edmund put up a great fight, and both he and I were slightly exhausted at its close.

Our chests heaving, Oerius gave up tips and tricks to better our swordplay. When he was done with his instruction, I picked up my things, ready for a dismissal and looking forward to a heavy lunch. Oh, boy, how I was wrong.

"Where are you going, my King?" An amused Oerius tried to hold back what could have been a mischievous grin. "We've only just started."

Fro the next two weeks, from dawn to dusk, Edmund I went through vigorous training. When I said vigorous, I did not only imply the physical aspect but by also the wide branch of subjects we covered, and that was, to put simply, everything. Swordsmanship, archery, horseback riding, ever court mannerisms and eloquent speech; we were at the mercy of Oerius and his thoughts towards the obliteration of our ignorance. We even ate meals outside. I was exhausted, nay, physically mentally drained. Each day, I awoke, ate, trained, ate, returned to my bed (which was much more inviting than before), and repeated the process in an almost mechanical manner. I hadn't seen my sisters in ten days and hadn't spoken to Edmund (though he underwent his schooling beside me) in two.

Finally, at the end of another countless sparring match, I heard the blessed, sacred words I was dying to hear:

"You are ready, my King."


End file.
